


Orange-issued

by Ulqueleh (Ulquii)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Family, Fixing a tie, Insecurity, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Mentions of marriage, Non-Sexual Intimacy, mentions of proposing, or before that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26706217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulquii/pseuds/Ulqueleh
Summary: He stumbles to turn to the voice, finding Keith stopping just a couple of steps into the room, and he’s so distractingly handsome in his burgundy shirt, black tie and gorgeous-made-in-half-an-hour braid hanging on his shoulder than Shiro completely forgets he’s just halfway dressed and with his stupid Garrison-issued-orange tie tight on his face.It’s when he hears him snort that he realizes he must look like a total moron.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	Orange-issued

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: one character adjusting the other's jewelry/necktie/etc. for @annaofaza!
> 
> (I have to say I did a longer work about this but it turned out going to sex so I wrote a whole new thing! I might post the other one soon!)

Shiro grumbles, again, fumbling with the neck tie and pulling desperately at the obnoxious knot he had managed to make on the raised collar of his shirt. He winces when he feels it tighten instead of loosening, and wonders why the heck it didn’t choke him to death —he’d prefer it over losing a battle against a stupid orange tie. 

Shiro doesn’t even like the stupid tie —he has to use it almost daily for work because once he tried to go with a tie of any other color than that ugly orange, or no tie at all, and received many frowns his way. As if being one of the high rank executives for almost a decade a couple years ago, or the reason the company was known beyond the tiny town they were stablished in, or just being one of the superiors in the office was nothing but a mere title. He was well aware that to win his co-workers' respect and amicability was with stupid drinking nights with poker, in both which Shiro was terrible; too lightweight to handle the alcohol poured out and too expressive about what he had in his hand. 

He glances at the mirror, rolling his eyes at his reflection and turning his back on it to avoid seeing himself fail against a too rough, too itchy piece of cloth. He opts to yank it over his head to pull it off instead, wanting to see face to face what kind of sailor knot he managed to make and see if he can somehow loosen it enough to undo it. Shiro prefers using the scissors and end this stupid thing for once and for all, but he needs the fucking tie on Monday if he doesn’t want to be object of ill stares. 

Thing is the tie doesn’t come off.

Instead it catches his nose painfully, and Shiro groans, again, starting to slip it off his head. But, of course, the necktie is stuck on his face, and turning once again to the mirror, Shiro deflates at how disastrous he looks, his white shirt crumpled, his suit jacket —also crumpled, Shiro knows— abandoned somewhere in the bed behind him, and the stupid orange tie trapping his head completely, the knot tight over the scar of his nose and the loose ends falling over his mouth with his huff.

He was so busy glaring at his reflection in the mirror —more specifically, to the stupid tie in his face— that he didn’t hear the door from the room open swiftly. 

“I’m ready, Shiro.”

He stumbles to turn to the voice, finding Keith stopping just a couple of steps into the room, and he’s so distractingly handsome in his burgundy shirt, black tie and gorgeous-made-in-half-an-hour braid hanging on his shoulder than Shiro completely forgets he’s just halfway dressed and with his stupid Garrison-issued-orange tie tight on his face.

It’s when he hears him snort that he realizes he must look like a total moron. 

“What are you doing?” Keith asks, amused, and Shiro winces, looking down to the stupid tie and gripping it with his fist before yanking it over his head, not even flinching at the pain on his nose.

“Sorry, I’m-” Shiro gestures vaguely with his hand, trying to laugh it off and turns around to fumble with the knot on the tie, “This thing is just-” 

He pauses when he feels Keith’s touch on his shoulders, his hands gently making Shiro turn to him.

Shiro tries not to look at him, a little because Keith's gorgeous and just one glance would be devastating to Shiro, but mostly because he’s too embarrassed about being vexed by a mere tie. But in Shiro’s defense, this tie has been a nightmare from day one.

“What’s wrong?” Keith murmurs softly, asking for the tie with just showing his hand, and Shiro pouts, handing him the offensive garment, “You only fight with your ties when you’re nervous.” 

Shiro wants to refute it, because that’s not true.

Yeah, he gets a bit clumsier and more fidgety when he’s feeling restless, his prosthetic making things worse because he gets even stupider with it. But it doesn’t have anything to do with him being nervous, or with his ties, or with this tie in particular.

Although he wants it to burn in hell.

"It’s nothing,” he ends up saying, Keith’s eyes going up at him and staring into his eyes, “Keith-”

“You can’t fool me, you know,” he cuts him off, somehow pulling on a magic side on the tie and undoing the knot easily, “We could...”

He trails off, and Shiro finally looks at him, finding him chewing his lower lip while fidgeting with the now free tie. He’s overthinking, Shiro can tell, because while Keith knows every single hint of discomfort about Shiro, Shiro knows to heart Keith’s.

“Keith...”

“We could postpone,” Keith says, his voice just a mutter, “To when you’re sure or, I don’t know, at ease. My folks won’t mind.”

Shiro can’t help his hands reaching Keith’s, stopping his fingers over the tie and letting it fall to the floor between them.

“I am sure, Keith,” Shiro states watching his expression, his blue-grayish eyes looking away from a bit before going back to Shiro’s, “I’m just...”

“Nervous,” Keith finishes when Shiro stays silent too long, and reluctantly, Shiro nods, “You don’t have to be, Shiro.”

“But,” Shiro refutes this time, his brow furrowing, “What if they don’t like me?”

Keith snorts, his face softening, and shakes his head in disbelief.

“What,” he laughs, “Are you serious?”

Shiro mouths, taken aback by Keith’s honest grin, and doesn’t have time to justify it.

“Shiro, you’re a total sweetheart,” Keith states, suddenly earnest, “You’re kind, intelligent, talented, hard-working and extremely handsome, how on Earth would they not like you?”

He looks away, feeling his face flush at the flatter, and his eyes fall on the prothesis.

“I’m not-” he starts, frowning for a bit before sighing, “It’s just that you are so...”

He trails off, not knowing how to explain how beautiful Keith is, how strong and determined and _perfect_ he is. How different it is from Shiro himself.

Keith drops his hands, cradling his face and making Shiro look at him in the eye.

“What?” he asks, serious and ready to deny it the second Shiro says it, and Shiro tries to takes a steadying breath.

“I’m not perfect,” he mutters understanding how much that sole idea has been bothering him ever since Keith agreed to be his friend years ago, to date him almost year and a half ago, to marry him a few weeks ago, “I’m...”

“I don’t want perfect,” Keith says simply, “I don’t care about perfect. I want you.”

Shiro stares at him, letting the slow caress of Keith’s thumb on his cheeks ground him.

“Your parents might not want me, though.”

“And I don’t care if they don’t,” Keith huffs, rolling his eyes, and Shiro smiles despite himself, knowing that he learned that from him. “They’re not marrying you. I’m the one marrying you.”

Shiro nods, breathing in and out deeply, before taking Keith’s hands into his and turning his face to press a kiss his palm.

“I love you, Keith.”

Keith smiles at him, his face blushing prettily.

“I love you, Shiro,” he vows, so soft Shiro wants to kiss him, “And my parents will love you, too. Don’t worry.”

And it’s weird how easily Keith can say something like this and make Shiro believe, his nerves calming down to just an uncomfortable buzz in the back of his head.

“But not with this tie,” Keith says suddenly, releasing Shiro’s face and leaning down to retrieve the now wrinkled tie from the floor, “It’s horrible and I hate it so much I want to tear it and burn it.”

Shiro laughs, weak but genuine, and frowns when Keith throws contemptuously the orange garment to the laundry basket, walking in the other direction to their drawers.

“Good thing I got you something.”

“What-”

“A neck tie,” Keith says, shrugging it off while he searched on his top drawer, “To match.”

“Is it that important to match?” Shiro asks, chuckling when Keith glares at him, “I know, I know. Always a team. Okay. No orange necktie.”

“Ever,” Keith states and Shiro snorts.

“Until Monday.”

Keith rolls his eyes, making him laugh.

“And use your black shirt, instead,” Keith suggests smiling at him over his shoulder, “The white shirt won’t do.”

Shiro huffs and starts unbuttoning his shirt, a bit grateful. He’s sure his black shirt is clean and more pressed than the one he’s wearing, because he doesn’t use the black shirt that much, even when he likes how he looks in it. It doesn’t look good with the stupid orange tie, though, but nothing looks good with that thing.

“Here.”

Shiro turns to Keith, and before he can try to make a gesture to be handed the tie Keith got for him, he stays still when Keith pulls the tie around his neck and starts knotting it on his collar. They stay silent while Keith works, his fingers dexterous and swift.

Shiro wants to kiss each of them.

“There you go,” he announces, adjusting it one last time before, softening his grip, his hands caressing the tie.

It’s the same color of Keith’s shirt, making them match despite Shiro having to use his gray jacket.

But, despite that and his crippling anxiety and nervousness from before, Shiro is happy.

“Ready to go?” Keith asks, glancing from the burgundy tie to Shiro’s eyes, and he catches how his expression softens at Shiro’s smile.

“Ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> This author replies to comments.
> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason (sometimes I feel shy when I’m reading and not up to starting a conversation, for example), feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!
> 
> ~
> 
> Come and yell with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ulqueleh)!


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